


They Said Monster

by rikacain



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikacain/pseuds/rikacain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki pays Sleipnir a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Said Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the events of whenever it's convenient. Drabble inspired by http://i-psilone.deviantart.com/#/d53xurh

He materialises in the cool evening shade of Asgard’s stable, immediately silencing any and all stable hands and stable masters present with a single wave of his hand, enchanting them into a light stupor. The horses and mares whinny in surprise, some taking the opportunity to eat an unfortunate young lad’s snack held in his outstretched hand; Loki pays no attention to them. He looks only at one.

The stall he looks for is furthest in, shrouded by darkness save for a single guttering candle sitting forlornly in its lantern, casting a dim orange glow. He replaces it with a tall wicker wax candle that burned far more brightly, casting all sorts of shadows that danced harmlessly across the walls before stepping into the stall; carefully, quietly. Disturbing is not his intention; he kneels down slowly, before reaching out to brush the pads of his fingers lightly across the horse’s - his son’s - face.

“Good evening, Sleipnir,” he breathes out.

Sleipnir raises his head, his eight legs splayed below in what is surely a comfortable position for him and Loki takes in the sight of his son, who has grown far bigger than the foal he once was, far stronger than the rest of the horses. His coat is brushed and shines, his mane is long and leaning on the coarse side, his eyes bright as he greets his father in the way he is used to - with a neigh.

“Hush,” Loki quickly says, and moves over to Sleipnir’s side where he can lean against him and lay his head in his mane. “Not too much noise, now. I’m not supposed to be here.” He scowls at a single knot in the mane and works it out gently, his son tossing his head slightly to show his displeasure. “Just a knot,” he reassures. “Just one.”

A lie, but no one calls it out and thus Loki gets away with combing Sleipnir’s mane to perfection. Loki enjoys the silence, Sleipnir less so, but nevertheless the hands drop away from his mane soon enough and the arms attached slid about his neck. “It might be hard for me to visit you again,” Loki murmurs into his neck. “I’m not actually allowed to be in Asgard.” Sleipnir lets out a soft whinny of discontent and Loki hushes him yet again. “I’ll do my best to drop by, of course, but escaping Heimdall’s notice is getting harder now that he knows what to look for.” Another whinny, and a light hand. “Stop that,” he says sternly, but then suddenly looks very, very tired. Sleipnir stops whinnying, trying to look back at his father to see what the matter was.

“Remember the stories I told you when you were younger,” Loki sighs, “the very one told to me by my mother and the nursemaids before her.” Sleipnir leans in. “Remember the tales of the Frost Giants, the monsters that lurk beyond the walls of Asgard, in the cold realm of Jotunnheim?” His voice had a flat quality to it; it did not matter whether Sleipnir remembered. Nothing mattered now.

“Remember,” Loki now roughly whispers, and Sleipnir shrinks back, “how cruelly they fought and killed, and how the Aesir warriors honorably slayed them to save the realm from such misdeeds?” His hands resting about Sleipnir’s neck grew colder and Sleipnir tossed his head back in panic. “Do you remember, Sleipnir?” he hissed.

“I am one of them. I am a monster. They would no longer say Loki, of Asgard - no, they would say Loki, the changeling that stole under Odin’s eye to grow up their prince.” His hands gripped about Sleipnir’s neck, a lifeline. “They would say _monster_.”

The hands left Sleipnir like a cold, lashing whip; and Sleipnir caught sight of his father drenched in the hated Jotunn blue. “Even you would forsake me,” Loki murmurs and Sleipnir snorts whether in revulsion or denial, they would never know. “Even you.” Loki gets up and slowly slides his way to the stall door, Sleipnir clambering to his feet after.

“Goodbye, my son,” and Loki calls out, slipping out of the stables and melting back into the shadows, and the stable hands and stable masters snap back to attention, no one privy to Loki’s once-presence. 

And if Sleipnir cries out ‘til the break of dawn for someone who will not come back, no one knows why either.


End file.
